


rhythmicity

by TreacleTeacups



Series: Drabbles n Oneshots [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Oneshot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Time Travel, cranky af tom riddle, extremely tired and Over It harry potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleTeacups/pseuds/TreacleTeacups
Summary: In which Harry says Tom's First Words, but does not bear Tom's.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Drabbles n Oneshots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1859008
Comments: 36
Kudos: 603





	rhythmicity

Headmaster Dippet calls Tom Riddle to his office on the evening of Hallowe’en.

Tom has plans for the beginning of Allhallowtide, plans which involve important rituals that can only be conducted during the once-a-year celebration. However, Tom is nothing if not gracious. It would not do to spit in the headmaster’s face.

Tom curls around the top of the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster’s office and the door is already open. From his position, Tom can see that there is someone sitting in front of Dippet’s desk; a wild mop of hair peaks over the highback chair. Dippet sees Tom a second after Tom arrives and the old man waves him in.

Tom prowls into the office and takes a seat next to the stranger. Tom does not pay the stranger any mind, instead focusing wholly on Dippet until introductions are made. Tom burns with curiosity, but Dippet is a vain man. Dippet enjoys being the centre of attention, especially of those he perceives to be the up and coming politicians as Tom appears to be, and Tom wields this knowledge wisely.

“Mr. Riddle,” Dippet is saying with the pomp and circumstance of a proud man. “We have a new transfer student that I would like you to welcome. Please,” Dippet gestures to the boy sitting next to Tom, also staring straight ahead at Dippet, “Meet Harry Evans.”

Tom takes the introduction to turn in his seat slightly. He has crossed his legs and relaxed in the chair, an authoritative posture that oft intimidates wizarding ilk. When Tom glances at Harry Evans, he realises the young man is not intimidated. This grates Tom’s nerves.

The first thing Tom notices is that the young man is thin, too thin. He is perhaps a whole head shorter than Tom, though Tom can’t be sure from his sidelong glance. His wild black hair is windswept – _lazy,_ Tom thinks nastily – and his eyelashes are lowered, hiding his eyes from Tom’s curious gaze.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Tom purrs, because it is expected of him.

The impudent brat gives Tom a brief nod and does not look at him.

“Mr. Evans here was home-schooled,” Dippet says and Tom has to concentrate on the headmaster to squash his instinctive snarl at Harry Evans’ dismissal. “His parents passed away this year, unfortunately. He is attending here to finish his schooling.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tom offers Harry, sending the young man his most considerate smile.

Harry finally looks up and Tom feels himself burn at the sight of the brightest, eeriest green eyes he’s ever seen. The look on Harry’s face is indecipherable, but whatever emotion the young man is feeling is far from pleasant.

“I somehow doubt that, Mr. Riddle,” Harry Evans replies blankly.

Tom feels his world crash to a halt. His ears are ringing, his blood pressure is spiking. It is only from a lifetime of practice that his expression remains impassively blank.

Dippet is spluttering at Harry’s dismissal of Tom’s kind words but Tom does not have eyes for the offended headmaster.

_I somehow doubt that, Mr. Riddle._

These words are carved on Tom Marvolo Riddle’s hipbone, in small cursive letters. They have been there since he turned eleven years old.

A flicker of glimmering white captures Tom’s attention and his eyes glance down to the young man’s clenched hands. There, in what must be a soulmark, is the outline of Harry’s destined words on the back of his left hand.

 _I must not tell lies_.

It is a highly unusual soulmark for it is mangled, like a scar. But Tom cannot reason why else the young man would have those words on his hand, if it were not a soulmark.

The words do not match what Tom had first said to Harry Evans. Tom breathes slowly through his nose, his heartbeat calming. It is unusual to display one’s soulmark without discretion, practically inviting negative attention and false introductions from ne’er-do-wells. Harry Evans must have already met his soulmate, if he is displaying it so openly.

“I cannot imagine why,” Tom replies at last, his eyes flickering back to Harry’s impassive green gaze. The young man is handsome, almost pretty. He has soft, pouty pink lips, almond shaped eyes, high cheekbones that Tom would have guessed were aristocratic before he knew Harry bore a mudblood name.

However, Harry looks worn. He is uncomfortably thin. There are dark welts under his eyes from sleepless nights, his cheeks hollow, his expression carefully guarded. He looks haunted. He looks broken. Perhaps from losing his parents, though Tom could not relate to such an emotion.

“Well, that is certainly not how we speak to one another here at Hogwarts,” Dippet splutters, two bright red spots on his cheeks as he glares at Harry. “We do not presume the negative when being introduced to a fellow wizard and classmate,” Dippet admonishes. 

“I apologise,” Harry replies, turning to the headmaster, looking as if he most certainly did _not_ apologise. “It has been a long month for me.”

Dippet looks assuaged, though not completely so, but he stands and claps his hands together nonetheless. “Tom is our Head Boy and the leading example of Slytherin,” Dippet announced sternly. “You would do well to remember that alliances in Hogwarts extend long into the professional world. Now, Mr. Riddle, Harry Evans here has been sorted into Slytherin. Might I suggest you give him the tour?”

Harry does not react. Tom gives Dippet the warmest smile in his arsenal. “Of course, headmaster,” Tom purrs, teeth glinting in the lowlight, “It would be my pleasure.”


End file.
